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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...including some remarks about "the absurd and mischievous professional-pacifist or peace-at-any-price movements which have so thoroughly discredited this country during the past five years. These men are seeking to chinafy the country."): E.E. Cummings wrote rhymed poems as an undergraduate, and these are to be found here too. Photographs of Wallace Stevens and Norman Mailer at the age of twenty stare out from facing pages. It is all nostalgic all literary. It is the way The Advocate had always been...
...there was a certain austerity to the proceedings. Several of us were elected in the Fall, met Updike, read poems in the late afternoon, and stylized ourselves. Things were taking their course, and it was acknowledged that some of us would take our place among those authors who had found their way into the Centennial Anthology. Occasionally, there were muffled complaints that no one read The Advocate, or even knew what it was; but this seemed to plague no one, nor had it probably ever. Literature was something to be administered, like medicine, in small, unpleasant doses. Even then...
...published with more dashes than words, but Miller's evocation of the American scene as "drunkenness and vomiting, or breaking of windows and smashing heads" must have been aggravating then. Years later, Robert Bly and some of his friends glommed Eliot's college poems from some old issues they found lying around, and republished the pieces without permission, but so inaccurately that almost no one recognized them anyway...
...expressed by Peter Viereck in a parody of Prufrock: "Today the women come and go Talking of T.S. Eliot." Jonathan Culler, in his introduction to the Centennial Anthology, described a magazine that had "stayed Georgian ten years too late during the poetic ferment of the twenties"; the poets who found themselves at Harvard after the close of World War II, nearly thirty years later, had no patience with these traditions. Led by William Carlos Williams, poets like Ashbery, Kenneth Koch, and later Frank O'Hara argued over the conventions of American prosody, while Donald Hall insisted that Lowell and Wilbur...
...Commerce. I kept getting these flashes of old war movies I had seen where a bomb would plop down right next to your buddy, and you'd see the thing coming at him, and, balm, your buddy would be gone. But none of these bombs were really exploding. I found myself laughing, and shouting happily to someone beside me. "Wow, they're using all the goddamn stuff up on us." It seemed hardly worth their effort, but it was mildly flattering...